


Trapped

by StarWarsSyl



Series: Short Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Survival Horror, collapsing buildings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWarsSyl/pseuds/StarWarsSyl
Summary: 3,653 years before Luke Skywalker blew up the Death Star, the Sith Empire requested peace negotiations to open with the Republic. The Jedi went to Alderaan to oversee those talks...And while the warriors were away from home, the Sith army burned the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Vast portions of the structure collapsed, and many Jedi noncombatants lost their lives.One survived.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> January 13, 2018 Update: Sorted into correct era collection now.

 

Padawan Bengel Morr felt every second of it.

He heard the distant crash of stone buckling, then felt the terrible shrieks in the Force of battle.

Felt his heart lunge into his throat in dismay.

The teal-skinned Nautolan raced out of the Halls of Healing, drawing his saber as he did.

Shadows with crimson lightsabers spilled towards him, faces hidden behind metal masks.

Masks that would haunt him the rest of his life.

He fought as he never had before, fought in a way that he thought would have made his Master, Orgus Din, proud.

Orgus.

Not on Coruscant.

Bengel felt gratitude for it as he sensed the battle going ill elsewhere. Felt the massacre unfolding. A saber scraped by his gut, burning deep and sending him stumbling to the side.

Gasping for air, he felt the floor lurch, then tip, then _slide_ , and he tumbled with it, hearing shrieks from the Sith being thrown, watching in horror as the ceiling rushed down to follow as well.

He felt the deaths of those in the Halls, one after another after another— some from the current collapse, others from Sith blade just going from bed to bed—

He felt when the floor hit something further down, tried to use the Force to protect himself from the stone ceiling.

Weakened by pain, his protective bubble only kept his head from being crushed.

But something huge landed on his leg.

He screamed in agony, nearly blacking out, but it wasn’t enough, so he hovered right on the edge, nausea roiling through him from the pain he couldn’t block out or accept.

He had no idea how much time passed before he found he could _think_ beyond, _Master, Master, please, Master— Force have mercy—_

When he could, he turned his head to try to see where he’d fallen on his back.

He found rubble all around him, a cocoon of broken stone.

There, to the right and as he tipped his head back, he saw a crushed open head.

He thought it might have been one of the Sith, but he wasn’t sure. Blood and other fluids seeped in his direction. They would reach his lekku soon.

He forced himself not to vomit. _No. No, I have to get out of here. I have to escape._

His hand lay against something sharp. He pulled back, heard something clink.

A familiar song drifted by his soul.

He reached hesitant fingers into the sharp shards, found his crystal lying in the crushed heart of his saber.

He gripped the stone tight in his palm as he tried to reach out to the Force.

Silence lay over the Temple.

_Are they all dead? Are the Sith still here?_

Which would be worse? To die trapped here in the collapsed wreckage of his home, or to be _found_ by the Sith and have a saber put through his eye?

Heart pounding, Bengel bit back a sob. He tried to ask the Force to lift the debris off him, to shove it away so he could at least escape this tiny cage, but the stones barely shifted. He pushed again, adding desperation to his strength, and the entire pile quivered.

Things shifted alright, driving metal into one of his lekku, collapsing the tiny space he still had smaller, leaving something sharp too close to his eye.

He held very still, realizing with growing panic that he would be trapped here until someone found him and dug him out.

He gripped his crystal tight and begged for courage.

Little did he know then that he would be trapped there for days. No food, no water, the stench of the corpse as it began to decay, the feel of the blood and fluids coating his head, soaking into his clothing.

That his body would stop listening to his mind, would add its own fluids to the misery and stench.

That the pain would never leave, only growing worse as he began to fear infection, fear the loss of his limb—

Began to believe he would die here with all his brothers and sisters.

Edged close to Death, stared it in the face; but it did not take him, and he finally screamed defiance when he had nothing left to say.

No.

If at the beginning you had told him that he would Fall, caged in that tiny place, he would have sworn he’d rather die.

But when they finally dragged what they thought was his corpse from the ruin, the eyes beneath the lids had turned gold, and the crystal— clenched tight in his fist and covered in his blood— bled great drops of its own, evidence its soul had shattered from its bonded’s pain.

Many servants of the dark died in the Temple in that fateful attack.

One was born.

 


End file.
